Some say that the energy that we call time is nonrecoverable and that grandparents very often love their grandchildren more than they do love their own grown up children. I don't know if time is really to be called energy, and if my grandfather loved me more than he loved his son and his daughter, but he's gone now for over a decade.
It's actually ten years and six days since my grandpa died, and if my mother wouldn't have told me yesterday, I wouldn't know that so much time has passed. I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to track time, dates, and remember events from the time perspective. Being her father she remembers the date every year, and reminds me of him as well. My grandpa, that I talk about in this post, was my only grandpa...
...because the other one, my father's father, died one month after I was born. They said that he struggled to survive just to see his only nephew. I wonder if he would feel the same about me, 33 years after. Not knowing personally my other grandpa, I lived with just one and two grandmas. Christmas gifts, can't complain about em, as we didn't felt that there was only one grandpa in our lives, neither me nor my sister were ever disappointed.
I still recall though, that January 22, 2010, as being a damn cold day of a very cold winter. There was a lot of snow and ice that time around, and we kind of knew he was going to die considering his condition, but that couldn't stop me from visiting him everyday, till the last one, and talking every day about his favorite subject, which was his bee hives, was a must. His thinking was no longer clear and he was having memory issues, but he didn't forgot about his bees.
It was his life long passion after all, managing to take care of up to 100 hives, with the help of my grandma of course. He started from one hive, when he was in his early thirties, and died having 50 functional hives, while in his glory days took care, as I mentioned above, of 100 hives that provided us good quality honey, and a good source of income for him. He really enjoyed his work for the hives and was one of the best bee keepers in the area, as well as a hunter.
It's funny, but you somehow subconsciously know when you're about to die, or at least, say things that you don't pay attention to, that have some meaning after you pass away, for the ones paying attention to such details. About a month before he died, I bought myself a new winter jacket, he saw me wearing it and he told me that I should have bought a bigger size because I will gain more weight and the jacket won't fit anymore the next year. The words that he used I remembered though crystal clear, and not the reasoning behind them. He told me: I won't see you wearing this jacket next year this time. He was right, because that was probably the last time he did saw me with that jacket...
In my childhood years, almost all of my fishing gear was bought by him, although he was kind of stingy with others, but with me... not. Being a hunter, I guess he was proud that his grandson was passionate by a pretty similar sport, thus invested in my passion. He assured that I was paying, with the money he gave me, the yearly fishing permit, every spring. I wouldn't have done that if he didn't insisted, because my anarchist mind from that time, was against paying for such a license to an institution that doesn't do any maintenance whatsoever, regarding fishing, to the lake. I would get from him almost every reel I would put my eyes on, if I knew how to ask, and for a kid passionate of fishing it meant a lot.
He wasn't the perfect grandpa though, I'm being honest about that, but I visited them, him and my grandma, very often, we would go hiking on the hills around his hut, especially in spring, and we planted a tree together. An apple three that we stole from a rich man's land. Yes we stole it, because I only wanted to plant an apple tree and we couldn't find one ready to be planted at the old market, so we had to get one somehow and grandpa executed the heist perfect. Nobody noticed, and the tree is still at the hut making apples...
Time flies though, and it's already a decade since he passed away, but memories, at least the most beautiful ones, are still alive for me. He was my only grandpa, he wasn't the perfect one, but he always welcomed me, to his house, with a big smile and taught me a few things here and there, and I believe he is worthy of a Steem post dedicated to him. A decade after, his memory is saved on the blockchain, on his grandson's blog.
Thanks for attention,